A Chair Is Still A Chair
by Lily Anna Evans Potter
Summary: Set during 8.21. After Chuck sets the bulldozer on the River Court campsite, Clay mourns the loss of his beloved armchair and remembers the role it played in his life with Sara. When Quinn returns from Puerto Rico she knows just how to make him feel better and proves that a new chair isn't such a bad thing after all.


**A Chair Is Still A Chair**

Nathan had left the River Court for a coffee run by the time Chase wandered back to their campsite, looking dejected. Nervously Julian put aside his laptop, where there was still no sign of the endangered plover in their video footage. He then exchanged an exasperated look with Clay, who reluctantly did the same. "What happened with Chuck?" he asked hesitantly.

"He locked himself in my car," Chase sighed. "I get that he's upset, but he's not willing to talk it out either. What am I supposed to do now?"

Julian just frowned, Chuck was a good kid but he did have a reputation for reacting violently to painful situations. He glanced at Clay again, dragged on the camping trip by Nathan, the agent was staring unhelpfully at the ground. Did he think the bird would miraculously materialize just because it was a ground dweller? Weird dude alright. "You don't think he'll do anything crazy, do you?" he asked Chase apprehensively.

"I dunno dude, it's Chuck we're talking about here," Chase shrugged helplessly.

"Any luck spotting the bird?" Jamie piped up from somewhere behind him suddenly, their self-proclaimed bird expert. Chase glanced at the boy enviously, so blissfully oblivious to adult problems. He wasn't anything like Chuck's father, he loved that kid and he would come back, damn it! How to make Chuck believe it was another problem entirely though.

"No sighting yet, the footage is -," Julian started to answer Jamie's question, but a loud revving disrupting the calm of the River Court, cut him off. "What the hell?"

"Is that Chuck?" Clay hissed incredulously, speaking out loud for the first time other than to complain about the camping trip. Chase whipped around, Clay's shaking finger was pointing over his shoulder. His eyes went wide at the sight of the previously dormant bulldozer intended for the condo construction rolling towards them. "Holy shit, Chuck!"

At the confirmation Julian jumped into his nearby parked car and drove it into the bulldozer's path. Chase was meanwhile yelling at the boy to bring the machine to a halt, but Chuck seemed to be panicking and apparently couldn't. Somehow Chase managed to climb up into the moving bulldozer and take control of the wheel, but it was too late to stop. With sickening thuds and crunches, the construction vehicle crushed Clay's ice box and then collided hard with the armchair still by the campfire site. The stuffing flew out of it like a turkey on Thanksgiving and Clay, who had quickly pulled Jamie out of harm's way, went very pale.

"Clay, you okay?" Nathan's son was staring up at him, wide blue eyes full of concern. The sound of Chase yelling at Chuck seemed distant and muffled to Clay's ears, slowly he shook his head.

"Tell your Dad I'm sorry, buddy," he said softly. He clapped Jamie apologetically on the shoulder; "I need to get out of here!" With that he let Jamie wander in confusion towards Julian and left the two of them watching Chase and Chuck hug out their issues. Clay meanwhile ran away from the River Court without a backwards glance.

By the time Clay got back to his beach house, he couldn't breathe. "It was just a chair…just a chair," he chanted over and over to himself in the silence, but the truth of the statement just wouldn't hit home. Shaking, he locked himself in his bedroom and dug through his closet haphazardly for a box shoved far towards the back on one of the higher shelves. He had made it a rule to avoid this box but the shock of the day called for an exception. What was it about photographs in boxes that made people so hopelessly emotionally fragile? That was a trail of thought he had no answer to, as he dumped the considerably heavy carton on his bed and lifted the lid away.

The box was overflowing with memories, full to the brim with photographs and video tapes. Right on top was a framed wedding photograph, his late wife's frozen smile made Clay's heart ache. Why was he doing this again? Shaking his head, Clay dug a little deeper into the box and finally found the specific picture he was looking for: It showed Sara, reclining in the armchair which had just been destroyed with a wide grin on her face. Her hands were folded across a barely visible baby bump, but it was already pushing the maroon dress she was wearing to its limits. The dress had clashed with the old chair horrendously anyway and Clay couldn't quite decide whether to laugh or cry when the memory of that day assaulted him.

_He and Sara were spending the evening with his mother, to celebrate the signing of his first major client they'd claimed. In actual fact they had another piece of big news to share. The couple exchanged mischievous grins when Sara turned down the champagne going around, step one complete. "She's not drinking?" Marie Evans asked, eyebrows raised as Sara giggled and backed towards the puffy velvet armchair in one corner of the living room._

"_Nope," Clay beamed as Sara pulled him after her impatiently, his giggly goofball. "Actually we have something else to tell you," he started, very nearly distracted by Sara's long fingernails crawling across his shoulder blades. "There's more than one reason we're celebrating tonight, not just my first client."_

"_Curiosity peaked," his mother smiled as Sara peeked out from behind her son; it was adorable how happy they made each other._

"_Spit it out Clay," Sara whined playfully. The short blonde stepped around her husband and leaned into his solid embrace contentedly. _

"_I would if you'd stop distracting me, angel," he laughed. "Glowing already, I swear!"_

"_Glowing?" Marie repeated, almost choking on an ill-timed sip of champagne. "You're pregnant?" she squealed._

"_Guilty as charged," Sara winked. She nestled against Clay's shoulder happily, only stepping back when Marie's eyes began to fill with tears._

"_A grand-baby," she sighed. "I'm so proud of you kid, what a night!" She leaned up and pecked Clay on the cheek. "I wish your father could see you now, I really do."_

"_I know, so do I," Clay agreed softly. His father had been killed in a plane crash two years earlier, the tragedy had killed Clay's former obsession with model airplanes. "A grand-baby," he repeated, to drive the point home that this was a time to be happy._

"_Amazing," his mother said and her arms tightened lovingly around him. Suddenly Sara darted out from behind him and ran up the stairs. Marie stared after her knowingly; "Oh dear, they really shouldn't call it morning sickness," she said. "Off you go!"_

_Clay didn't ask how she knew, it would be down to experience. He pounded up the stairs after his wife and grimaced at the retching noises behind the bathroom door, show time. He stepped up behind Sara and released her pale fingers from around her long hair, holding it back for her. "Got it, you're okay," he said soothingly and in minutes she was done._

"_So it begins," she said shakily. "Sorry babe."_

_She sipped the glass of water Clay filled from the sink for her as he shook his head and smiled. "It's going to be worth it though, sucks way more for you."_

"_Nice work Dad," she giggled again, obviously feeling fine. "You should be proud of yourself."_

"_I'm proud of us," Clay corrected, tucking a stray blonde curl behind her ear affectionately. "And even prouder that you're all mine, I love you Sara Kay Evans. Rinse your mouth fast; you're making me want to kiss you way too much, cutie!"_

"_My husband the charmer," she smirked, washing out her mouth as he asked. _

_But just as she leaned up for a kiss, Marie's voice sounded from downstairs; "Are you kids alright up there? Come on down, I have something special for you!"_

"_This isn't over Mrs. Evans," Clay promised flirtatiously, tenderly guiding her by the hand down the stairs._

"_Nope," she grinned back. "It's just beginning in fact."_

"_Damn right," he agreed, the rest of his response dying on his lips at the sight waiting for them in the living room. "Mom, what is this?"_

_Marie was standing behind the old maroon armchair, which now had a big red bow looped around the back. She smiled up at him; "I want you two to take it," she said, looking pointedly at Sara. "If this one is in for the kind of back-aches you gave me, it'll come in handy. Trust me!"_

_Clay paced towards her slowly; "But this is Dad's chair," he stressed in disbelief. Sara looped her arms around him at the break in his voice._

"_It was Dad's chair," Marie corrected him. "It's seen a lot of happy times, isn't it time to add to them?"_

"_Thank you," he whispered. The creak of worn springs when he sat down gingerly was familiar and comforting. He pulled Sara onto his lap while his mother fetched her camera eagerly. "It is the perfect chair," he murmured. Sara cuddled against him, her eyes closed in contentment and neither of them noticed Marie capture the moment._

Clay stared at the snapshot of bliss with moist eyes, a lifetime away in such few short years. As of this moment all of that was gone, first Sara…now even the chair. He should probably care more that Chuck could have killed himself or nearly any one of them at the camping ground today, but the collateral damage was too great. Clay traced the outline of Sara's peaceful smile in the picture his mother had snapped that day so long ago. "Miss you angel," he breathed, then there was that agonizing silence again. Clay curled against his pillow miserably and scrolled through Quinn's recent texts, wishing with all his heart she could be home already.

Meanwhile Nathan arrived back at the River Court to find he had excessive coffees on his hands. "What the hell happened here?" he spluttered, staring at the ruins of their campsite.

Jamie was perched on one of the only undamaged wooden crates, kicking up dust. "Clay said to tell you sorry, he left," he reported dutifully. Nathan looked around again in wide-eyed disbelief. "Chuck overheard Chase say he's leaving to be an Air Force pilot," Julian supplied wearily, giving up the attempt to salvage his demolished tent. "The kid threw a fit and bulldozed this place. Chase just took him home; they're probably having a serious talk now."

"Makes you wonder if there's any chance the supposed bird survived that," Nathan murmured. "What a mess!"

"When's Aunt Quinn coming home, Dad?" Jamie asked, interrupting his damage surveillance glance around the River Court. "Clay looked really sad about his chair." He pointed at the pile of shredded maroon fabric. It was now all that remained of the chair Clay had been glued to for the better part of their camping weekend.

"Tomorrow I think," Nathan replied, feeling thankful that Haley's pregnancy had kept her at home. Julian nodded, he would know since Brooke was gone too. "You're a good man, Jamie Scott." He ruffled his son's hair affectionately. "Proud of you for thinking of him buddy," he praised.

Jamie shrugged; "He did make sure I didn't get hurt," he said simply and Nathan's smile faded. Weird dude or not, Clay always went out on a limb for his family. Hugging Jamie protectively, Nathan pulled out his cell phone. All he could do for Clay now was to try and get Quinn home a day early; she would know how to handle him in this fragile state.

Shrieks of laughter echoed on the other end of the line when Quinn first answered his call, the girls were clearly having a good time. "Hello?" she giggled finally; it sounded like she'd had to wrestle her phone from someone.

"Hey Quinn, it's Nathan," he said. "Sounds like you girls are having fun."

"Total blast, what happens in Puerto Rico stays in Puerto Rico," she said fervently.

"Yeah, about that," Nathan interrupted. "I'm actually calling to ask if you could possibly make it home a day early; there's been a little accident."

Quinn gasped and Nathan heard her shush her giggling girlfriends. "What do you mean accident, what happened?" she asked fearfully.

"I basically dragged Clay out of the house on the camping trip we had planned to try and save the River Court from demolition," Nathan started, his voice heavy with regret. "Inclusion, you know? He was just going to sulk around at home alone all weekend, missing you. Long story short, Chuck found out Chase is leaving to be an Air Force pilot and set a bulldozer on the River Court."

"Damn Scolnik," she hissed in awe, but Nathan could sense she was still confused. "What does that have to do with Clay? If anything it just messed up your chances of finding the bird out there, right?"

"Not exactly," Nathan hesitated. "He brought his old armchair with him to the campsite and it was destroyed, I wasn't here but Jamie says he's pretty upset. Do you know what's so special about that old thing?"

"Oh God," Quinn sighed. "That was his Dad's chair; he and Sara basically inherited it. I'm sure he's thinking about her now," she said sadly. There was a long pause and Nathan wondered if he had lost her for a minute, then Quinn said suddenly. "I have an idea, call the furniture store! I'll be home first thing tomorrow morning, I promise. Put in an order for a chair like that one and I'll handle the rest."

_Two days later_

Quinn positioned the big red bow lovingly around the backrest of the new armchair as soon as the movers left on Wednesday afternoon. With the transparent glass doors overlooking the beach behind it, the chair fit right in to the beach house. It wouldn't gather dust in the garage like its predecessor had, that much was certain. Quinn smiled to herself and gave the smooth velvet a final pat before scuttling off into the bedroom, Clay would be home any minute. She pulled on one of his t-shirts teasingly, perfect touch after the weekend apart. Then she sat on the bed and waited for the tell-tale sound of his key turning in the front door.

Clay sighed as the front door clicked open a little while later; Quinn was normally out with Haley or Jamie at this time. Even though his old chair had spent a lot of time stored in the garage lately, he missed the familiar comfort it had always offered after a long day. He flicked on the living room lights and dropped his bag with a shocked thud; there by the window was a brand new puffy armchair, almost identical to the one he'd spent the better part of three days mourning. Grinning, Clay de-toured to the kitchen to grab a beer and settled contentedly into the new chair. The springs didn't sag with age but otherwise it felt wonderfully nostalgic.

"Hey babe," came a proud voice and Clay looked up to see his girlfriend posing in the doorway, wearing nothing but a long t-shirt of his.

"I should have known," he beamed at her. "Come here you," he lowered his beer and held out his hand to her. Quinn paced over to him painfully slowly, the tease that she was. With every step she chewed her lower lip adorably, was that nerves? "What's this for?" he asked, pulling her down on top of him.

"It seemed like you missed your chair," she explained. "Thank Jamie for being a perceptive kid, really good at noticing sadness," she said affectionately. She nuzzled against him; "I have a problem with my man being sad, clear?"

"Wow," he said in awe. "Thank you Jamie then, but actually I just missed my girl," he confessed, tracing circles in the folds of the loose shirt on her back. "Thank you," he murmured, the words fading into her mouth as she pressed a kiss to his lips.

"That problem is easily solved," she whispered. "Your girl missed you too and she's not moving from this spot anytime soon."

"Sexy," he groaned as she expertly tilted her head and trailed kisses down his jaw line and neck.

"I'm going to love this chair even better than the old one," Quinn moaned decidedly. She lowered her head against his muscled chest and Clay's arms tightened around her, he could almost agree, almost. He was a lucky man indeed, hoping for this second chance at happiness to last for many years more than his first love had. And in the meantime, the new chair would collect memories of this new bliss, Quinn's skilled fingers attacking the buttons on his jacket made that a silent promise.

**A / N This was randomly inspired when I re-watched episode 8.21, I thought Clay looked way too sad when "Chairy" got bulldozed. Presenting a little backstory, enjoy everyone!**


End file.
